


Disengaging Icarus

by snowdarkred



Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coming of Age, Gen, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdarkred/pseuds/snowdarkred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many parts that make up a man. Actions, reactions, past, present, future. There is history in every blink, a riddle in every flinch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disengaging Icarus

There are many parts that make up a man. Actions, reactions, past, present, future. There is history in every blink, a riddle in every flinch. There are songs for every finger tap, and screams for every fist. When Eli looks in the mirror, he sees a story told in scars and freckles, spread across him for anyone who looks. Which is, sadly, no one, because the world doesn't give a damn about individuals, and probably never will.

Not individuals like him. Only the big ones, the loud ones. The ones who suck in everyone around them, trap them in the cage of their immeasurable gravity, like a black hole. The ones like Cal Lightman.

 

\---

 

There had been a tree outside the Lokers' house – a monster of a mansion, sitting fat and square in the middle of a flat and square lot – and Eli remembers climbing it when he was younger. It had seemed so huge, then, and it had been exciting to try and reach the top. From there, he could do anything: He could touch the sky, he could see the ends of the world, he could fly to the horizon. It towered above him, and he marveled in its shadow.

But the world is so much bigger when we're young. One day we return to our origins and realize that it was never very much to begin with.

 

\---

 

He tires of the games before he tires of the work. The webs of lies people trap themselves in are fascinating – the way they tangle and tie and loosen, like an endless dance woven with words. One sentence misplaced, one flinch at the wrong moment, and it all falls apart. The noose tightens, the card house collapses, and the weaver is left with the rug pulled out from under them. With Lightman's training, he can follow the tides of social obligation, can discover anyone's darkest secrets.

With every lesson, he obtains more and more pieces to the puzzle, and for a while, it's worth jumping through endless hoops and running through unsolvable mazes, just to get that next piece. Just to be that much closer to mastery.

But of course, the games become harder, and he doesn't want to play them anymore because he's finally discovered enough of the picture to get the point – there is no point. There is only Lightman and his unstoppable ego.

 

\---

 

Dealing with Lightman is nothing like dancing. With any kind dance – and kind of proper dance, that people do for  _fun_  – there is expected to be a give and take. 

All Lightman does is take. It just took Eli longer to figure out than most.

 

\---

 

Foster indulges him, Torres worships him, and the never ending stream of law enforcement and politicians who tramp through The Lightman Group's hallways watch him with fear and loathing. Eli has done all three, in the past. Now he just feels empty. Lightman has hollowed him out and left him a bitter shell. The man is a borderline sociopath, and no one seems to care enough to stop him.

 

\---

 

There are many places that Eli could apply the skills he's learned – some of them are even legal. So many people want to see the truth, but none of them want to live with the consequences of learning. Eli can see a lifetime's worth of lies in the tightening of his mother's lips, can see feigned interest in a date's eyebrow twitch, can see guilt in a friend's hasty swallow. He can't hate Lightman for showing him these things, because Eli had wanted to know, and even now, he would rather see it than not.

But others would hate it – hate the knowing and distrust and pain – which means that there will always be someone out there willing to pay to have it told to them, to act as a barrier, a filter. He could definitely use the money.

 

\---

 

He doesn't apply just to the Pentagon, of course. He does that mainly because doing something that Lightman would disapprove of sends a sick thrill down his spine. He knows that Lightman had bad experiences with the government, but that was a while ago, and besides, Eli won't fall into the same traps. He won't let himself.

There's no guarantee that he's going to get the job anyway.

There's also a charity that works in Africa that needs someone to help spot liars and identify threats. A rich businessman in Japan who wants a leg up on the competition. A struggling foreign government desperate to weed out corruption. (That was how Lightman got started; Eli tried not to think about that as he sealed his resume envelope.) A rival company that is always trying to poach the Lightman Group's talent. Another rich businessman. A “private security” company looking for someone to train their “agents” in picking out suspicious targets. Plenty of jobs.

He sends emails and letters and makes calls and uses his considerable contacts, and he does it all with a bitter taste in the back of his mouth and a heavy heart. He's never going to find another place that captivates him as much as the Lightman Group (used to) and he can't shake the feeling that he's making a terrible mistake.

Then he finds all his belongings on the floor again, after Lightman reassigns his desk – again. He forgets whatever doubts he had.

 

\---

 

When he leaves, forever, he bumps into Emily on his way out. She grins at him, impish and unguardedly beautiful, and waves with the hand not holding the door open. She doesn't know yet that he's quit.

 _What is it like?_  he wants to ask.  _What is it like for him to actually act like a human being around you? What is it like to know that he has your back, to be able to trust him to do the right thing? What is it like to have such a fucking bastard for a father?_

But he doesn't say anything; he just nods, smiles, and goes. He doesn't look back.

 

\---

 

Back when he used to climb on the tree in front of his parents' house, he never managed to make all the way to the top. The branches wouldn't support him, and he was never quite tall enough.

Perspective tells a different tale.


End file.
